Breathe
by FireAndFury
Summary: "Gibbs hadn't had a nightmare in months, a small miracle if you ask him." AU Jibbs one-shot set a couple of years after Judgment Day.


**A/N: Greetings, all! I was working on a multi-chapter and watching season 9, episode 8 when this idea decided to distract me. Yay. Thanks again, to _pockethuman _for beta reading! And thanks to all of you who've reviewed/followed/favorited any previous stories, you guys are fantastic!**

**Disclaimer: No... still don't own it...**

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He sat bolt upright, gasping for air as sweat cascaded down his skin causing his old t-shirt to stick to him uncomfortably. His cobalt blues roamed wildly around the room before settling on the woman that lay to his right. Her long, blonde-streaked and slightly tousled, red hair was splayed across the soft white pillow case and her lips were parted slightly as she stayed blissfully unaware of her surroundings. Slowly he released the death grip he had on the sheets and tried to calm his breathing. The room felt like a furnace—suffocating and unbearable despite the fact that it was the beginning of winter. He removed the sheets and got up quietly as not to disturb his sleeping wife. The pads of his feet hardly made a sound as he made his way down the hall into the bathroom. He turned on the sink faucet and splashed the cool tap water over his face.

There was so much blood...

He gripped the edges of the counter and braced himself against it, allowing the granite to hold most of his weight. Taking deep breaths, he tried to force the sick, twisted images his mind had conjured away, only to realize how close those fictions had come to being a reality.

He blamed the case they'd just finished. Too many close calls.

Gibbs hadn't had a nightmare in months, a small miracle if you ask him. That didn't mean he wasn't up at odd hours of the night though; Jenny still had them frequently. At least once a week he'd wake up to her crying in her sleep or screaming for something or someone to stop. Her nightmares varied from her father's murder to being tortured in Cairo to the shootout in California, and she didn't enjoy talking about them so he held her until she was ready to. She did the same for him.

He glanced to his left and picked up the picture frame near the sink, his thumb shakily tracing the image. Their wedding day. Jenny stood laughing in her just-above-the-knee, lace ivory dress, hair twisted into an intricate updo, while his arms were wrapped firmly around her thin waist from behind as he placed a kiss to her temple. It was one of the happiest days of his life. Finally, after all of the missed second chances, they were husband and wife. That was just over a year ago.

Suddenly he felt two petite arms wrap themselves around his waist and a warm, lazy kiss being placed on the back of his neck. The scent of lavender shampoo and sandalwood assaulted his senses as his wife gently placed her head between his shoulder blades.

"I didn't mean to wake you, Jen."

Jenny let her thumb stroke over the worn, dark cotton of his shirt. "I know. I have trouble sleeping when you're not next to me."

They stood there in silence for a moment.

"Nightmare?" She whispered.

The rise and fall of his chest paused and he reverently set the picture down before turning around to look at her. He took in the sight of her dressed simply in one of his old, faded green t-shirts that hung loosely on her small frame, black leggings, barefoot, with sleep-mussed hair, and her emerald eyes tinged with concern. He slowly nodded and pulled her toward him, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling her scent. One arm wrapped around her waist while the other went to her shoulders as he firmly held her to his chest, trying, and failing, to hide the fact that he was shaking.

She leaned up and placed a loving kiss to the silver hair at his temple before tucking herself under his chin and nuzzling into the crook of his neck; he knew she was comforted by the smell of Old Spice and sawdust that seemed to cling to him. The redhead lightly ran a hand down his back in an attempt to soothe him, but the grip he had on her only tightened. She pulled back slightly.

He refused to make eye contact.

She placed a hand on his cheek, lightly caressing the bone with her thumb, and forced him to look at her. He hoped she couldn't read him.

But that idea quickly flew out the window if the worried downturn of her mouth was anything to go by. He wasn't good at hiding things from her for long.

"Jethro?"

His arms held her closer, if possible, and he tiredly buried his nose in her already tangled, red mane. Her hand came to rest in his hair, gliding through the soft strands of his military cut and gently scratching his scalp. "What was it about?"

Silence.

She seemed to hesitate. "Shannon and Kelly?"

He shook his head firmly and he felt her shoulders relax in what he assumed was relief. Shannon and Kelly weren't a secret anymore, just like her father, but neither one of them really discussed the ones they'd lost. They dealt with their deaths in their own ways: him spending hours with his boat and Jenny pushing herself to the limit at the NCIS gym after hours. It wasn't like they avoided the subject; they just found it easier to cope alone. He knew that she'd only asked because she'd told him once that she hated that his subconscious wouldn't let them rest in peace. She was protective, even if it meant protecting him from himself.

"You were looking at our wedding photo." She laughed lowly and smiled at him, clearly hoping that he'd return it. "Yep, you're married to wife number five. You're pretty much stuck with me. I hope that's not what woke y-"

"I almost lost you."

That shut her up.

"I-I almost lost you, Jen. At least twice, if not more. I don't... I can't-"

"Shhh... I'm right here, Jethro. I'm okay, I promise." She held him tightly and resumed running her fingers through his hair before standing on tiptoe and kissing him softly.

He didn't respond, simply letting her lips rest comfortingly against his and concentrating on her every breath.

She broke the kiss and smiled weakly; taking his hand in her smaller one and silently leading him back to bed, encouraging him to lean against the headboard. Her feet lightly padded across the thick carpet and the mattress dipped slightly as she settled next to him, sitting up against the headboard with her toes curling into the charcoal grey quilt. She threaded her fingers with his and pressed a kiss to his cheek before resting her head against his shoulder and gripping his arm with the hand that wasn't already occupied.

"Tell me what happened."

"I don't think you want to hear it."

"If it'll help you to talk about it, then I'm willing to listen."

He was quiet for a long time and he thought she may have fallen asleep. The lazy poke to his ribs told him otherwise.

"It's always the same. There's shattered glass everywhere, tables are overturned, and you're lying in a pool of your own blood. I check for a pulse but you just stare back at me blankly and I can't feel anything. Suddenly I can't breathe because I realize you're gone." His voice grew quiet. "I didn't get there in time."

"But you did. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here."

"You still got shot, Jen! Multiple times!"

"Yes, but you were there to stanch the bleeding and get me to a hospital!" She squeezed his hand. "Do you honestly think that if I hadn't gotten shot, we'd be here now? We finally fessed up to what we'd been feeling for almost ten years!"

"I know bu-"

She moved from her position next to him and straddled his lap facing him. Her palms gently cradled his face, her forehead resting lightly against his and their noses brushing.

"I'm not going anywhere, Jethro."

With that, Jenny placed her lips over his. She kissed him slowly and he responded almost desperately. Her hands slipped down to rest on his chest while his went to just above her knees, his thumb of his right hand drawing invisible circles over the elliptical scar he knew was underneath the soft material of her leggings.

His hands roamed upwards underneath the old t-shirt she was wearing while fingertips ghosted over the bullet wounds along her small waist and rib cage from the California desert, slowly traveling to the long, thin scars on her back made by Egyptian blades that he would never be able to thank Ziva enough for saving her from. He reverently traced the cigarette burns on her shoulder blades before letting his hands settle on her waist. He broke the kiss to place his lips gently to the thin pink scar where she'd been grazed by a bullet and her neck met her shoulder.

He lifted his head and rested his forehead against hers, simply enjoying the fact that they were sharing the same air.

She threaded her nimble fingers through his silver military cut, her breathing ragged but a small smile playing on her lips.

"Amazing the way you still make me feel like I did when I was your probie."

He smirked and kissed her chastely once more.

She pulled back and gently bumped her head against his, blue eyes meeting green. "Think you can sleep now?"

"Am I that boring, Jen?"

"Nope," her lips quirked upwards in a tired smile, "but I was in MTAC at 0500 to supervise an op in the Middle East, had multiple meetings on the Hill to fight for our budget _again_, stayed in the office going over case reports until your team wrapped up the Haxby case, you and I went to bed about two hours ago, and we have," she leaned over to look at the clock on his bedside table, "three hours before we need to be at work."

He gently nuzzled her neck, feeling her pulse accelerate slightly. "This wouldn't be the first time we've gone without sleep."

She pushed him back and smirked. "I'm exhausted, Jethro." She pressed her lips to his again with just enough pressure to leave him wanting more. "But I'll make it up to you later," her lips brushed the corner of his mouth, "promise."

Jenny lifted the thick quilt once more and turned off the lamp, settling down on her side with her back facing him.

He took that as an invitation to curl up behind her. He pulled her towards him and wrapped an arm around her waist protectively, the other resting under her head and his legs tangling with hers.

She let out a soft yawn as he kissed the shell of her ear. "Love you, Jen."

The redhead smiled sleepily, her eyes still closed, and ran her hand along his arm before lacing her fingers with his on her stomach. "Love you, too. Now, shut up and let me sleep."

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**A/N: Thanks for reading!**


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